


whisper my name (without making a noise)

by whalesong_and_bones



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Baby's First Fanfic, F/M, Falling In Love, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Un-Beta'ed, accepting your lover's imminent death, this started off as self-indulging i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesong_and_bones/pseuds/whalesong_and_bones
Summary: Who knew the beginning and the end of her love could co-exist so close in time?
Relationships: Emily Kaldwin & The Outsider, Emily Kaldwin/The Outsider
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	whisper my name (without making a noise)

**Author's Note:**

> I have been reading fics since I was probably 12. I am 25 now and this ship needs more people contributing. Title shamelessly stolen from "Vide Noir" by Lord Huron. Un-beta'ed as hell.

When she was but a heir to the throne, Emily had a large range of tutours - from economics, to politics, all the way back to ship building and the biology of whales. However, what all of them failed to mention is how little somebody in position of Empress gets to sleep. Between answering missives and letters to pondering new laws, dedicating enough hours to rest properly is not something that was essential in her duties as the leader of her Empire. Her ability to get four to five solid hours of rest has vastly diminished when she accepted the Outsider's mark.

Her proficiency in channeling the mark did not come easy. The first time she had attempted to Far Reach in the Void has almost caused her to careen into it's depths. Hence, in the dead of night, while her physical body rested, her mind would be running around the empty Void, honing her abilities to perfection.

The Outsider would visit her sometimes. His ~~beautiful?~~ horrid black-on-black eyes ever so slightly crinkled in amusement as she tried to summon doppelgangers with various degrees of success.

_My dear Emily, it seems I have no reason to call you vain. Your doppelgangers look nothing like you._

Other times, he'd whisper to her, his voice the flutter of a moth in the dead of the night. Correcting her posture, her movements, pointing out her mistakes. Did he do that with Corvo as well? Was he not supposed to be an amoral observer?

Weeks later, she would come to understand his ulterior motive - lying on a cold black slab, surrounded by men in hooded robes. _Delilah is a part of me now, and I don't like it._

It had been months since Delilah's reign has been put to an end. She thought that would also put an end to her nightly visitations to the Void. However, neither the realm or it's dark ruler has faded from her life. Again and again, she would be summoned back. She started to believe the Outsider has grown fond of her company. Until one day she **knew** it.

It started of innocuous enough - two monarchs finding common ground in a desire to not be viewed as such - the only two individuals which could stand as _more-or-less_ equals in the throne room rendered in the soft watercolours of the Void's atmosphere. The camaraderie which Emily could not share even with Corvo - her dear father knew little about her persistent anxieties, the fear of failure, exacerbated now by the coup. That was another experience shared between her and the Outsider - Delilah's attempt to usurp them from their rightful place.

As the visits had begun to be measured in the double digits, she has begun to notice little things. The Outsider's eyes, his black sclera had the depth of ink, carelessly spilled. In the days she dared to come within hand-reach of him, Emily could swear she saw a shadow of an iris - like cigar smoke against the Wrenhaven. His cheekbones were rendered in porcelain so fine, the high-born ladies of Dunwall would feel unclean touching it.

And her burgeoning affection did not seem to be one-sided. Two months into their late-night meetings, the court greetings have been replaced by courtly kisses on her marked hand. His lips, cold but electric in their caress, like the wings of a moth fluttering. His gazes were long ( _did he have no need to blink?_ ) and did not stray away from her face, as if he was trying to memorize her. It all came to a head when, in the middle of Emily's rant about a particular daft nobleman, he muttered, breath-taken "But you are lovely." His mouth tasted like sea water, and she was engulfed fully in his depths.

The day the Outsider had deemed to manifest in her office late into the evening, half-a-year into her restored reign, was something she would come back to in wanton trepidation and immeasurable fear. They made love on the futon, treaties which were being lovingly crafted not ten minutes ago forgotten for the call of the flesh. They had never done this outside of the confines of the Void. His touch was desperate, hungry. The gray-green of his pale iris blown wide with passion. In the quiet afterglow, Emily could tell something was not quite right.

"I think I am going to die tomorrow," he breathed against her neck, a keening note of desperation slipping past his kiss-stung lips. Dumbfounded, she found herself blurting "You... _think_?"

His hand, cold and uncalloused, was stroking her cheek. "There are many things I am capable of seeing. _Used_ to be capable of seeing." he clarified. "However, I find it difficult to perceive events which could occur in past tomorrow." She had realized he was wiping away tears. She did not remember when she had started to cry.

"Since when have you known?" Emily whispered.

"I have always known my time as the avatar of the void was a limited employment, however I could never clearly see who would bring about my end," The Outsider hesitated, but softly added "but it seems like Delilah had set actions in motion even in her absence."

"Why tell me now? Can I do something?" she questioned, not pausing for breath "If you have known your end is imminent in my life-time, why lead me on?"

The Outsider traced his hand from her cheek to her chin, trailing her tear streaks like war-paint. He smiled, barely a quirk of the corners, but a smile, nonetheless. "My humanity has been returning to me, somewhat. In the last century, I have begun to _care_ again." he begun, slowly, as if measuring out his words, "People which would largely be boring have started to intrigue me." His free hand had softly squeezed her marked one. "Silent cries of desperation have begun harder to ignore. I could no longer look away. And the more I looked, the more I felt." The God laid his forehead against Emily's. "I did not mean to lay with you under false pretenses. I..." he trailed, as if gathering up courage "I just wanted to be happy for a while."

His words struck her harder than a concussion mine. Was she born under an unlucky star if everyone she has ever cared for was bound to leave her? Emily flung her arms around the man. If she could only have him for one more night, she would not squander it with pointless fighting.

"What will happen to my mark after you... disappear?" Emily asked, hours after the sun had set over the waters. She had chiseled herself an alcove in the cradle of The Outsider's arms, her hand drawing his mark over his chest.

"I am not privy to such knowledge. Marks tend to remain even upon the death of it's wearer, however I have never wondered what would happen if I were the one to die," the Outsider answered plainly. "I would hope it would eventually disappear, for your sake."

No words were spoken in the intervening hours, and by the time the sun arose, The Outsider, and her heart were gone.

Her mark had dripped of her skin, in an bruise-purple watercolour, within the same week.


End file.
